


249. Off with the head

by tveckling



Series: Dare to Write challenge [48]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Mercutio survives the duel, Secret Relationship, So much angst, Tybalt is only mentioned, Tybalt survives the duel, Tybalt will be executed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 15:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10493541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: “Benvolio! Did anyone tell him? That it wasn’t on purpose, that it was an accident?”“Tell who what? What was an accident?” Benvolio looked like he was considering calling for someone, so Mercutio grabbed his hand. He needed Benvolio to answer his questions.“Did someone tell my uncle that Tybalt didn’t mean to hurt me? It was just an accident.”Benvolio stared at him, gaping for a second before he shook off Mercutio’s hand. “What are you talking about? Did you lose too much blood and can’t think straight, or did you have a strange dream, or something? Mercutio, he almost killed you! If we hadn’t- if you hadn’t received help as quickly as you did you would have died. Because of him! And now you try to defend him?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ambrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrose/gifts).



Everything hurt. That was the first and foremost thought in Mercutio’s head as he woke. He must have made some noise of distress, because it didn’t take long before someone grabbed his arm and called for the physician. He tried to sit up, see what was going on, but he had barely moved before his vision turned blurry and he fell back into painless darkness. 

When next he woke there was less pain, and he remembered to lie still. It was light in the room, and Mercutio discovered that if he turned his head slowly his vision remained steady. He couldn’t say that he was surprised to find himself in his own bedroom, but he was surprised to find Benvolio in a chair next to his bed. Benvolio had been resting, but as Mercutio studied him he stretched and yawned, opening his eyes and seeing Mercutio looking back at him. It was comical how he jumped up to his feet, but Mercutio didn’t have it in him to laugh.

“Mercutio, you’re awake! Thank God, I thought- you woke up before too, but since you fainted almost immediately I thought- I don’t know what I thought, but I’m just so happy to see you awake and, and, how are you feeling? Are you hurting? Of course you’re hurting, you have a wound in your stomach, how could you not feel it? I’m sorry, that was a stupid question. Is there anything you want? The physician said you can’t eat, but you can drink, so I have some water for you or wine, I have some wine too, and I think-”

“Ben.” Mercutio closed his eyes, Benvolio’s rambling being too much for him to handle at the moment. “Some water. Please.”

“Of course, of course.”

Mercutio could follow Benvolio’s movements by the sounds he made, and when he heard Benvolio walk up to the bed he opened his eyes. It was hard to drink—he had no strength in any of his limbs and Benvolio ended up having to hold the cup for him to drink from, but eventually his thirst was gone and he motioned for Benvolio to back away.

“What happened?” Mercutio asked and watched Benvolio tense. “After I had been stabbed. What happened? I didn’t think I would survive.”

“Me and Romeo, we got you to a physician I knew that lived nearby. His rates are too expensive even for my family, but I knew that since you are an Escalus and all he wouldn’t hesitate to treat you.” Benvolio rubbed his neck, clearly at unease. Too bad for him to be the only one in the room when Mercutio woke up, because Mercutio had to know. “And, well, he did, and after he had finished his surgery you were brought back here. He is in the room next to this one, in case his services is needed. Your uncle demanded it.”

Mercutio closed his eyes again and asked what he didn’t really want to know the answer to. “What about Tybalt?”

“They arrested him, of course.”

“Is he-” Mercutio had to swallow to get the words out. “Did they execute him?”

“No, not yet. The Prince has been too worried about you, and announced that he would wait with making a judgment until after he was certain you would either live or die.” Benvolio shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at Mercutio with a light frown. “You’ve been wavering between life and death for two days, Cutio, and only when you started showing signs of waking up yesterday did the physician say that you would make it.”

Mercutio breathed deeply, thinking it over. If that was the case then there was still time… “Benvolio! Did anyone tell him? That it wasn’t on purpose, that it was an accident?”

“Tell who what? What was an accident?” Benvolio looked like he was considering calling for someone, so Mercutio grabbed his hand. He needed Benvolio to answer his questions.

“Did someone tell my uncle that Tybalt didn’t mean to hurt me? It was just an accident.”

Benvolio stared at him, gaping for a second before he shook off Mercutio’s hand. “What are you talking about? Did you lose too much blood and can’t think straight, or did you have a strange dream, or something? Mercutio, he almost killed you! If we hadn’t- if you hadn’t received help as quickly as you did you would have _died_. Because of him! And now you try to defend him?”

Mercutio felt a flare of panic in his chest that made it harder to breathe. “No-no, you don’t- it wasn’t real. He wasn’t actually trying to kill me, and I wasn’t trying to hurt him either. It was just our usual fight. Ben, I swear, it was an accident. If Romeo hadn’t gotten between us I could have easily parried that thrust.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying that Romeo is the one who almost killed you, instead of Tybalt?” Mercutio shook his head and tried to protest, feeling the situation grow further and further out of his hands, but Benvolio didn’t listen to him. “I saw it clearly, there were dozens of us in the square who saw it, and we saw Tybalt fighting with murder in his eyes. He meant to kill Romeo, but apparently felt like you were a good enough substitute! I saw his sword, Mercutio, his bloody sword—red with _your_ blood! Didn’t you yourself say that he is one of the finest swordsmen in Italy? Well, then shouldn’t he have been able to avoid hitting you if he didn’t want to?

“I don’t know why you suddenly want to protect him, but you have to realize the truth. He wanted to hurt someone, and he meant to hurt you. Even if he didn’t succeed in killing you he still tried, and that makes him as good as a murderer in my eyes. He deserves to be executed!”

Mercutio shook his head even more frantically, but he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs to protest Benvolio’s furious tirade, and the hand he reached towards Benvolio shook. Immediately the anger left Benvolio’s face, being replaced by guilt and fear, and he dashed back to grab Mercutio’s hand and stroke his hair.

“Calm down, calm down, just breathe. That’s it, breathe in, then out, in, out. Follow me, in. Out. In. Out. Good, do it again.”

Benvolio’s coaxing worked, and Mercutio could feel the vice grip around his chest ease more and more, allowing him to breathe again. When he finally could breathe somewhat normally he was exhausted, barely able to keep his focus on Benvolio.

“Need… talk to… uncle…” he managed to whisper, and once he saw Benvolio’s nod he breathed out and closed his eyes, allowing the exhaustion to overtake him, too tired to do more than quickly curse his weakness.

The third time he woke up he regained his composure quicker, and after looking at the window he decided it was either late evening or early morning. Over by his seldom used desk was a lit candle, and Mercutio realized someone was sitting there. If he focused he could hear the sounds of a quill against paper, and the comforting noise threatened to pull him back into sleep.

It couldn’t do, so he cleared his throat.

The quill immediately stilled and Mercutio smiled crookedly as his uncle turned around. His uncle didn’t smile back, but he also didn’t seem angry as he walked over to take Mercutio’s hand and look him over.

“How are you feeling?”

“I can honestly say that I have both felt better and worse,” Mercutio answered with a wink. His grin softened as Giovanni shook his head. He looked tired, and old, and it etched a splinter of guilt into Mercutio’s gut.

“That’s as good as you can feel, I suppose. You scared me, son. We will have a long conversation later about you ignoring my words and fighting, trust me on that, but for now you won’t have to listen to me yell. I’m just relieved that you survived.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were barely audible, but then Mercutio very rarely took them in his mouth.

His uncle flashed him a quick smile to show that he had heard, then schooled his face. “Young Benvolio said that you wanted to speak with me, but not about what. What was it?”

Mercutio hesitated, taking a deep breath as he thought of what to say and the best way to put it. “Benvolio said that Tybalt Capulet was arrested and might face execution.”

“That’s correct.” Giovanni’s eyes had hardened at the name, and Mercutio desperately tried to pull back his thoughtful uncle from the enraged Prince.

“Please don’t do it! It was a mistake, he didn’t mean to, and besides, he didn’t kill me. There’s no reason to kill him.”

“What are you saying?” In any other situation Mercutio would have enjoyed the utter confusion on his uncle’s face, but the heart pounding in his chest didn’t allow any time for that.

“Don’t execute him. Please. I’m- I’m begging you.” It was okay, it was only his uncle. He could allow himself to show weakness. “We made a mistake, he and I, in fighting—but that isn’t enough to kill him. If it is then I should be punished the same way!”

“ _Mercutio!_ ” Mercutio snapped shut his mouth and stared at his hands, anywhere that wasn’t his uncle. “I will not hear you say something like that again, do you hear me? You are my nephew, I will not execute you. I will come up with a fitting punishment later, but-”

“If that’s so then why does he have to die?” Mercutio gritted his teeth and tried to push down the urge to yell. His side was already aching with the way he was tensing his whole body. “I fought too, and what happened was a mistake! Why must he die?”

“Because he almost _killed you_!”

At Giovanni’s outburst Mercutio’s heard swirled around and they stared at each other for a few seconds in shocked silence. Then Giovanni sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

“He is different from you, Mercutio, not just because you are my flesh and blood and he is not. I warned the Capulet and Montague families especially. If any of them were found fighting again they would be put to death; that’s what I said, and now I have to uphold my word. If not then the citizens will know that they don’t need to listen to me, and I can’t allow that.”

Mercutio shook his head and clung to his uncle’s hand. “Can’t you think of something else? Anything- something that won’t take his life?”

“ _Why_ are you so concerned about this boy? From what I understand you have always hated each other. Why are you now so desperate to save his life?”

“I-” Mercutio tried to think, but his mind was empty. He couldn’t think of any convenient lie, especially none that would fool his uncle, and with Giovanni looking at him with those worried eyes that had watched over him his entire life Mercutio couldn’t lie. His voice was a trembling mess and he stumbled over every other word, but eventually he made himself talk. “I love him. And he loves me too. We have kept it secret for- for so many reasons, but I can’t let him die. Not because of me. Please, uncle, please.”

Giovanni was silent for a long time, his face turned away so that the anxiety within Mercutio grew with each second. He stubbornly focused on keeping his breath level, because otherwise he would think about why his uncle was so quiet and wonder what he was thinking and what would he do and- oh God, Mercutio had actually told him he was in love with another man. His usual eccentricities was one thing, but the thing he had just revealed was something else entirely. A weakness he had never revealed to someone else before, and he had been sucked into the warmth of his uncle’s concern and now he might have lost the person who was more of a parent to him than anyone else. And it might still not save the one he wanted so desperately to save.

God, what had he done?

“I see,” Giovanni said slowly, finally. “I… had always suspected that you might- I suspected. But know this, Mercutio: it doesn’t matter. You are my nephew, my heir, my son in spirit if not in flesh. This doesn’t change that.” The grip around his heart eased, but Mercutio didn’t dare allow himself to relax. Not yet. “As for the Capulet boy… I am sorry.”

The words hit him hard, and Mercutio wondered if it would have been more or less painful to have his uncle denounce him and then refuse his request. This was just cruel, he thought numbly.

“I understand your feelings, and I wish there was something I can do, but I can’t. I must uphold the law in this city, and that means that Tybalt Capulet must die for his transgressions. I’m- you’re young, and whatever feelings you might have are just part of that. As you grow older you’ll forget about them, I’m sure of it. You’ll find someone else and realize that you’ve risen above the old pain.” With just a glance and a quick pat on Mercutio’s hand Giovanni walked back to the desk and gathered his papers. He continued to talk without turning around, but Mercutio could hear every word clearly. “It would only have meant trouble to stay involved with that boy anyway. It’s better this way. You’ll see.”

Mercutio stared as his uncle paused in the doorway, and the feeble hope that had grown in his chest shattered at his uncle’s last words. “I’ll ask the servants to keep you company while you heal. It’s not good to let a mind wander, especially- especially in a situation like this.”

And then he disappeared, the door closing behind him, leaving Mercutio alone. He understood exactly what his uncle meant, and the knowledge made his hands shake by the force with which he tightened them. Tybalt would die soon, and Giovanni had no intentions of giving Mercutio a chance to interfere. If he wanted to do something he had to do it as quickly as he could, before anyone had a chance to stop him.

He hadn’t counted on how weak he was, however, or the way his wound strained his body. It took all of his willpower and far too long to get himself into a sitting position, but from there he could use the bed to push himself to his, badly shaking, feet. Every step was agony, but he gritted his teeth and kept going, almost collapsing against the wall when he finally reached the door. No one had come through the door yet, so he must have taken less time than he thought or his uncle didn’t immediately go to order someone to watch him. Either way the result would be the same, he thought and grabbed the door handle.

It was locked.

Slowly he slid down the wall, every last bit of strength slipping from his limbs, and stared blandly at the floor. So that was why no one had come yet. There was no reason, not when Mercutio was safely locked away, unable to cause trouble even if he managed to gather the strength to walk. The only other way would be through the open window, but not even Mercutio could fool himself into thinking he would manage to climb down the wall. There was no way out for him.

Disturbance outside his window caught his attention, and Mercutio shook himself from his dark thoughts. With even more effort than he had used getting up from the bed he managed to make his way over to the window where he saw people walking past in big waves. At first he didn’t understand why they were gathering, but a flash of Capulet colors in the masses made him realize with a start. His breath quickened with sudden panic and he took a step backwards, but in that moment his strength chose to leave him, and he fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

It must have made quite the noise, because soon after his door opened and a guard ran in, then shouted for the physician. The wound in his side gave a pang of pain so strong Mercutio almost fell unconscious and he gripped the spot with a shaking hand, breathing and waiting for the waves of pain to recede. When it did he raised his hand and looked down—the blood came as no surprise, but he didn’t care. All he could think of was where the masses outside his window were going, and he cursed his uncle for moving so much faster than he had thought. The execution hadn’t even been decided, and yet Giovanni made sure to make it happen on that exact day? He was truly desperate to get it over with.

Mercutio ignored the physician who started talking to him, ignored the men who carefully carried him back into his bed, ignored the servant who wiped his sweaty forehead with a cloth. When was the last time he had told Tybalt he loved him? Had he- no, it couldn’t be, he had to have said it sometime. Once, at least. Why couldn’t he remember it? It had to have happened, because if he hadn’t- if Tybalt died without knowing-

Mercutio finally closed his eyes and wept.


End file.
